Maybe I'm wrong but I suspect that, when it comes to The Designer's Republic, you may be either a lover or a hater. Perhaps you either embrace their self-indulgent creativity or repel against the pomposity of it all. What's the big idea? You could ask.

Al gave me this album the other week. Not a particlular fan of the artist, he lifted the sleeve just because of its cover. And snapped it up after realising its creators.

I'll be frank: I don't fall into the first TDR camp; I'm not a lover. But…now time has passed and their impact has proliferated; and as I've grown as a designer and come to understand the importance of the agitators on the business of graphic design as a whole; I can see this kind of work in a different light.

If you were to scrutinise this album sleeve you'd discover all sorts of self-indulgencies that have very little to do with the musician's work inside: Pantone references, units of measure, holes that interact with what lies beneath. You might say, distrations. Flagrant disrespect for the true purpose of the album sleeve which surely should reflect the musician's artistry, not the graphic designer's.

And yet I can't help feel the celebration of the sleeve as an artefact, especially now we're so many years on (this album was released in 1999) and the format has become a thing of the past*, makes for an exciting experience. I think, had I picked this sleeve up forteen years ago, it might have annoyed me; seeing it now it just makes me smile. It's of a time. It's more like art now, which is perhaps how it was always intended to be.

* I say this because although vinyl is, obviously, still made and sleeve art still laboured, the format's place in the world has changed.

In 1956, Penguin's Head of Design Hans Schmoller asked Abram Games to come on board as a Consultant Art Director. The publisher was about to embark on its first foray into the world of the full colour pictorial cover. A bold and ill-fated move; the experiment was short-lived as the public were confused by such unnatural work.

Strange to think that mere full colour covers could have caused such controversy, but they did so Allen Lane pulled the plug. But not before Games had designed a new cover grid and rolled out thirty two editions; some designed by himself and others out-sourced to a select number of illustrators.

This whole episode in Penguin's rich history has now been captured by Games' own daughter Naomi; Abram Games and Penguin Books has been published by the Penguin Collectors Society and includes reproductions of the entire series of covers. It's available to non-members for a mere £9 from the Society's online shop – along side a whole load of other great publications from the PCS.

I was ever so slightly bowled over by this package that arrived last week. Superbly packaged in a bespoke printed envelope and wrapped in it's own unique tissue paper, my special letter forms part of Pauline Clancy's Wood Type project. You can find out more about it here. While you're over there, check out Pauline's other work. You might remember Pauline from this piece she did last year.

Published by the RIT Press Vignelli Transit Maps tells the rise and fall story of the celebrated New York subway map, from its preliminary sketches, through its publishing and on to its demise. Lavishly illustrated, the book is an appropriately dignified and detailed monument to a significant icon of graphic design history.

In 2009 Massimo Vignelli generously released a free pdf document: The Vignelli Canon. If you dig around, you'll probably find it online somewhere. The Canon was a summary of what he considered to be essential knowledge that all designers should know, underpinning the idea that, "Creativity needs the support of knowledge to be able to perform at its best".

Vignelli is the quintessential designer's designer, championing a signature modernist approach that can feel a little soulless when practised without a deep understanding of the task at hand. But, of course, Vignelli is the master. Whether you're a dedicated modernist or not, The Canon is essential reading. A year after his electronic version, the print edition became available.

Issue three of GF Smith's Naturalis Works series, designed by StudioMakgill, is all about experitmentalist duo Based Upon:

Based Upon was founded by twin brothers, Ian and Richard Abell. They had long felt the instinctive desire to work together on something important, and when they chanced upon an undiscovered material, their destined collaboration presented itself. They heard about Liquid Metal, a substance that had been developed by an Australian company. It was being used and marketed as a skin to mimic metal, but Ian and Richard saw it through very different eyes. To them, its potential as a creative medium was fascinating.

I'm pretty sure it's the last in the series, which is a shame; each has been great in both design and content. GF Smith's website explains them all.

Path buddy and all round gentleman Mr Steve Kirkendall bought Unit Edition's volume on graphic design ground-breaker Ken Garland recently. I'm delighted to say he agreed to write a guest blog entry on the book. I asked Steve to tell us a bit about himself first:

I work for Virgin Money as a print/web designer which is quite creative, when I'm not doing amends. I've worked in London, Chicago and I'm now back in Norwich where I'm from. I've worked as a cartoonist/illustrator, a magazine designer, freelance all rounder and a creative director for a small publishing house. When I'm not working I am trying to shoe-horn Javascript into my stubborn brain. Or running. I blog at www.kirkendall.co.uk, which I'm presently redesigning, so please forgive its pants-down demeanour.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The film is about to start. The lights dim, the screen darkens. Out of the void you hear a voice, mature, quick, warm. It says:

"I've always thought it was terribly important to be able to say to someone: 'You don't need this – you can do without this symbol or you can do without this sign.' I think graphic design will only come of age when it can take on these sorts of questions, and sometimes answer them by saying, what you need here isn't graphic design it's whatever else. Or maybe nothing."

The words 'Ken Garland: Structure and Substance' appear on screen in Folio Medium Extended, range left and reversed out. They fade and the film begins.

Sadly, we'll have to wait for that particularly piece of heaven; this film doesn't exist. However, we do have the book. Ken Garland: Structure and Substance by Unit Editions is, unbelievably, the first ever monograph of one of our leading graphic designers. It may come as no surprise to learn that although only issued late last year, it's already on its second printing.

Part of the post-war generation of designers that included Alan Fletcher, Colin Forbes and Derek Birdsall, Garland is not as celebrated as his contemporaries. Maybe it's because he rarely entered his work for design awards and steered clear of any professional design body (although he helped to found D&AD, he left when he felt advertising started to dominate). Early in his career, his dissatisfaction during a meeting of the SIA (now the Chartered Society of Designers) led to the creation of his famous manifesto 'First Things First', where he called upon designers to use their skills to create 'lasting forms of communication' for 'worthwhile purposes'. With the applause that followed came the image of Garland as the design world's 'Mr Ethics' – something he always refuted. Though nobody doubts Garland's integrity.

Whether designing for Galt Toys, Paramount Pictures or the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, he never imposed his personal style or opinions onto his clients, preserving his own views for his books and many articles for the design press. A deep mistrust of homogenisation steered him away from corporate design (he famously turned down IBM) and stopped him from fully embracing the rigour of the Swiss, feeling that they prized form over content. Instead he felt the best way was to meld Swiss cool with American warmth – a philosophy described in his 1960 essay 'Structure and Substance' from which this book takes its title.

And what a book this is – whether, like me, you're a fan of Garland or are interested in the part he played in the birth of modern British graphic design, it will not disappoint. Everything is here – his design, logos, photography, lists of lectures, articles and books. Recommended, go buy!

P.S. Unit Editions are hosting Ken Garland: A graphic celebration at the St Bride Library in London on Tuesday 12 February. Unfortunately, it's sold out. However, Ken Garland will be signing copies of his book afterwards, you might want to pop along and see you if can get a cheeky autograph.

If you didn't know, each year at around this time (well, in time for Christmas) Pentagram produce a small holiday book; something playful. Last year it was Today I'm Feeling Turquoise. This year it's a book of push out, metallic silver gift tags with special messages on the back. Special, heart-rending, touching (slightly twisted) messages of love and desire…and paperclips and ice scrapers.

Written by Naresh Ramchandani with the help of Tom Edmonds and Nick Molster, it's very simple and very funny. Click each image to read the texts.

Always feel rather privilaged to receive Pentagram Papers. They're often odd in their subject matter, always surprising, usually delightful; the latest is all of those things.

Cowboys and poetry aren't particularly familiar bed-fellows round these here parts but in the right circles, there is a long heritage of high plains wordsmithery. Designed by Austin-based partner DJ Stout, with Stu Taylor, Paper 42: Cowboy Poetry features stunning photography Jay B Sauceda and the lyrical ramblings of whole posse of veteran ranch herders.